Independence Day Forgetting
by Captain Arthur
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. But you probably knew that. PrUKmark, mostly DenmarkxEngland. sorry Prussia, you get your own fic with England later. And Denmark with Prussia... Yaoi, eventual smexiness... just bear with me.
1. Chapter 1

**~A fourth of July story… a little late, but do you really care?~**

_In agreement with Prussia, Denmark was spending the week or so with England. Well… he normally did so, but this week was the first in July, entailing one of Britain's least favorite days of the year. America's Independence Day. His two lovers had long since agreed one of them had to be with him on the Fourth so he didn't do anything stupid. And Prussia was busy, Denmark had time… _

_So guess who got to go shopping with the shortest of the trio?_

"So you'll pole dance for me on my birthday?"

"No Denny."

"You'll… do a sexy striptease for me?"

"Maybe tomorrow, okay love?"

"Sixty-nine?"

"Don't even think about asking me about that again. Whole grain or wheat?"

He wasn't really shopping with the short blonde… really… he was following along behind and agreeing with the tense blonde if he was asked a question. Denny knew England's least favorite day of the year was only tomorrow, but he was pretty sure two large bottles of rum weren't necessary... In fact, he knew they weren't. Saying so, asking for England to striptease for him wasn't really warranted either…

When England disappeared into the bread section, leaving instructions to stay with the cart, Denmark quickly returned after putting one bottle of rum back. Arthur wouldn't notice.

Britain came back with sourdough bread, a strained smile on his face like he was trying not to explode or something. "Alright. That'll keep us going for a while…" Denmark nodded. "It all looks great. To the checkout… or whatever you call it."

England actually smiled a bit. "It's called a till over here love." Mathias agreed, laughing, and pushed the cart to the checkout line. The cashier glanced up at Britain, seemed to recognize him and said. "It's them bloody Americans again, huh? Silly blighters. You're a true Brit through and through Artie." He scanned their food quickly and put them in paper bags. Britain managed a small smile and took the groceries, the two countries heading for Britain's house.

~~~.~~~.~~~.~~~.~~~.~~~

Denmark didn't bother taking the bags off of Britain, reaching into the other's back pocket and retrieving the keys. England spluttered something, trying to sound annoyed but only succeeding in sounding pleasantly flustered. "You've got your own keys to my house; you could just get yours…" His cheeks were pink.

Denmark shrugged. "But you colour up so nicely when I go into your back pockets." He smiled, his mock whining voice fooling no one as he unlocked the door.

Then, both blonde countries stopped dead. As a third country stood up from where he had been sitting on the couch, standing in front of them…

In a pink Sunday bonnet and dress complete with lace and frills.

"You, like totally have the best summer dresses ever Britain." Poland twirled around, giving them a lovely view of the lace and pure pinkness of the flowery dress. He smiled. "I like, looked for gloves but couldn't find any totally lacey ones…"

Britain handed Denmark a bag of groceries and face palmed, walking past Poland to the kitchen. Denmark wordlessly closed the door behind him and followed his short lover.

Poland followed them, chattering away about the dress, how nice it was, where he had found it, wondering why Britain had this, did he wear dresses, oooh! did he wear sexy dresses for Denmark and Prussia- because if he did, he got bonus totally awesome points. And on and on and on. Eventually, Denmark interrupted, answering for the Anglican.

"It's nice you like the dress, oh really… I'll definitely check for more dresses in there…Britain has his reason, you really don't need to know… only when he gets changed into a girl." Denmark hesitated, glancing at Arthur who was robotically putting food away. "Yes, he does sometimes wear dresses for us, but on rare occasions…" England hastily kneeled down to put something in the freezer, hiding how flushed his face was. "Do you have a reason for coming over here Poland?"

Once again, Poland began blathering about something or other… finally put an invitation on the counter and grabbed his usual clothes, leaving the house in the dress, still chattering like a chipmunk in pink. Denmark quickly closed the door behind the country, heaving a sigh and sliding down the door to sit on the floor. He closed his eyes as England sat beside him and pushed a mug of tea into his hands. Mathias smiled, closing his fingers around the warm cup and England's hand before letting the pale hand go. "So why do you have dresses… with bonnets?"

"New Zealand… Wonderland… although Wonderland was more tom boy…" England chuckled weakly, leaning against the door and Denmark. The Dane could feel the tension in his partner ease up for the moment, anticipating tomorrow morning like it happened most every year… the gloves… the casual, yet slightly punk rock outfit. British television reruns…

Stopping Britain from drinking all the rum…

_**~~"Why is the rum gone?"-Jack Sparrow (Jhonny Depp) in Pirates of the Caribbean.~~**_

**~Chapter two ASAP~**


	2. Chapter 2

**~Thanks for the great reviews on the last chapter; I'm glad you all enjoyed it. :3 You have one more chapter to go before things get smexy, so this is still a 'T'. This is the emotional chapter… It sounds stupid saying that, but it's the fourth of July, what'd you expect?~**

Denmark always wished he woke up first, because then he could convince England not to make breakfast again or get the smaller country to cuddle with him for a while… but alas, Arthur never slept well, and was always up first, usually making breakfast, or reading a book with a cuppa (the English way of saying there was a cup of tea) nearby. And today, as usual, England was up first, but had not gotten very far apparently.

Denmark sat up, mentally sighing as he reached down to the floor to grab his boxers and slip them on.

Arthur was sitting on the edge of the bed, bare shoulders shaking. It was unusual for him to give into the tears this early, but it had clearly happened, never the less. He had put on the black, fingerless leather gloves and casual green cargo pants riddled with pockets, but had not yet gotten to the black shirt Denny knew he would usually put on. On this day, England chose to dress almost like a time where he felt safe and confident-this meant two periods of his life; pirate and punk. Pirate wear was always too gaudy, which meant he dressed like a punk rocker. Or tried to. He could never seem to force himself to go completely punk, (which both Prussia and Denmark lamented) but he got as close as he dared. Denmark was glad to see Britain had not found the spiked collar. While it made Denmark shiver with anticipation- dear gods, England wearing a collar? (The sexual innuendos made Denmark want to cry sometimes.) He could never get the stupid thing off Britain's slender neck. How the Brit even got it on was beyond him.

Denmark sat down next to the shorter country, putting an arm around Britain's pale torso and pulling him onto his lap. He rested his head on Arthur's golden hair, holding him close, both arms enfolding him. Denmark was silent, just as his lover's sobs were. Prussia, in Denmark's position, usually began talking to the Anglican, stroking his hair. Denmark knew Britain just needed someone holding him, and stayed quiet until the tears stopped rolling down England's cheeks. Eventually, Britain's shoulders stopped shaking, and he simply leaned against Denmark, eyes closed, breathing softly. Denmark reached for England's white button-up shirt and gently got Britain into it, burying his face into that pale neck as England curled up against him.

They stayed like that for a few minutes until Denmark kissed England's neck gently, taking his head away to speak. "SO, are we going downstairs?"

England, eyes still closed, nodded. But as he moved to get off Denmark's lap he was swept up. Mathias carried him bridal style down the stairs and placed him gently on the couch, leaning down to kiss Arthur's forehead, but finding his lips. England's leather clad hands were on the back of Denmark's neck and his jaw, just below his ear, pulling him down and rubbing his weak spot with soft fingers.

Denmark let England do so for a moment, resisting the urge to moan before pulling away. He let himself breathe a moment, back to England, before he turned around. "Nine, Ten or Eleven?"

England's cheeks were still pink. "Ten… second season." His voice was soft. He watched Denmark search for the season of Dr. Who, watching the slightly pale back; finely toned, the strong arms… deft fingers. England shivered slightly before burying his face in his hands a moment and breathing. Mmm… The smell of Leather. What was wrong with him today? He wasn't usually this… broken… uncouth… needy… Even on… _that_ day….which was today… he sighed, looking back up at Denmark and the TV screen. Denmark had gotten the disk in, and it was getting there. He turned towards Britain, giving the other country a small smile before heading towards the kitchen.

Did he know how much it bugged England? Seeing Denmark without a shirt… just… normally, like today… Mathias was only in boxers for crying out loud… that wasn't fair when he was so very ready to have Denmark towering over him… England made himself focus on the TV screen.

The rest of the day passed slowly for both, Denmark making food, both sitting next to and sometimes on each other (usually someone's legs resting on someone else's lap). They got through the rest of Ten's run, and decided not to watch Eleven's, watching some of the last Sherlock episodes in season one. Curiously, this was suggested by Denmark, to which England agreed- Mathias's motives becoming clear at the finale as England wrapped his arms around the Dane's arm, legs on Denmark's lap and pressed himself against his tall lover. Denmark's smirk was barely concealed.

After the finale, Denmark turned to TV off, both sitting in silence for the moment. Then-

"I've decided I won't striptease for you tonight love…" England's soft voice, vibrant in the darkness.

Denmark chuckled. "That's alright, it's not like I really-"

England interrupted him with a kiss, sliding his tongue into Denmark's mouth, straddling his lap suddenly. Denmark's arms wrapped around Britain, pulling him closer until Britain broke the kiss. "You can navigate in the dark right?"

"I've made the same trip hundreds of times Iggy… I'll manage." Denmark picked the short country up once more, hands on England's butt as the climbed the stairway to the bedroom. HE had to stop on the first landing when Arthur attacked that spot, just below and behind his ear, moaning a little before the short nation kissed his neck apologetically and let him climb the last set of stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

**~ And what you've all been waiting for. And yes, I lied on the summary. Why? Because the current rating of 'T' was only for Two chapters.~**

Denmark put England on the bed facing him, really wanting to stare at the Brit for a moment, this short country that he and Prussia could basically attack at any time. Who would take both of them in him with a sadistic plea. Who would get in the mood to play with them any way they wanted. Denmark shivered, noting the lust-clouded, green eyes and the pale chest that was not covered by the unbuttoned shirt. But that was all he could bear to look at, as turned on as he already was. Having England straddle him like that had caught him so off guard, but he would never protest such a thing.

HE crawled over the country, straddling that pale stomach and pushing back the shirt he had helped his lover put on, removing it carefully. Britain had said nothing, clearly wanting him too much to protest the absence of caresses until now. No doubt Arthur could feel Mathias's eyes eating him up. The blue gaze was always intense… And once again they roamed all over England until they met with his own, which came with the contact he was so ready to have.

Denmark was suddenly kissing him; tongue sliding between England's slightly parted lips, the large hands on the Anglican's jaw, and the other on his back like fire as England rose up to meet the Dane. A mewl had escaped Arthur, but his tongue was now in battle with Denmark's, the two organs dancing in Britain's mouth. When the battle was won, England was all too happy to let the victor search his prize, Mathias's tongue searching Britain's mouth, his hands frisking around England's body; Fingers like spiders down Iggy's back, and then one hand found a perk nub, and Denmark was forced out of England's mouth by the mewl that followed.

England fell back to the bed, panting as Denmark was straddling him once again on fours, the tongue that had masterfully been in his mouth now giving the perk nubs some much needed attention. His pants were not like skinny jeans, but they felt like it right now as his leather clad hands gripped the bed sheets. His mewls were beyond Denmark's understanding, simply a noise that made his needy cock twitch as the Dane focused on riling his lover up…

Denmark left a trail of nips on his way back to England's lips, stopping at his neck to listen to the moans and mewls as he bit down on the slender neck, noticing how Arthur always moved his head to the side to give the Dane more room, sucking on the skin viciously. Denmark blinked as the Anglican suddenly disappeared, just having lifted his mouth off of England's neck. What? Where was-

It was Denmark's turn to moan as he nearly fell over. England had slid his shorts off, lying adjacent to his lover on the bed, like a mechanic under a car. Mathias wasn't having that. He reached over, dragging England's hips under him and undressing him quickly, throwing all unnecessary clothes to the side. The moan he heard was more than satisfactory, but he didn't get to take the Brit's member in his mouth without letting a moan of his own escape first.

"I thought you said no sixty-nine?" He panted the words.

England's tongue touched his large member for a moment, caressing the shaft and head. Arthur waited for the moans to pass before answering. "I requested that you didn't bother me about it. You're the one who grabbed my bloody hips anyway."

The banter ceased and moans came back renewed, but muffled as each teased the other in his own way. England knew what he was doing with his tongue, for sure, but the combination of Denmark's mouth and fingers was definitely mewl worthy as well. England could finally stand it no more, forcibly pulling himself out of Denmark's mouth and giving the Dane's throbbing dick a final lick. He turned around under the Dane, cheeks flushed, eyes darker than usual, to insert his tongue into the mouth that had teased him for so long, every fiber of him simply wanting Denmark in him.

The Dane refused to comply, rolling so that England was on top. He figured his lover would like to be the one in someone for a change, especially today, but was once again surprised as the kiss was broken once more.

"Wanker. Get your stupid dick up my ass already." England growled, rolling them back so Denmark was on top again.

Mathias chuckled, hands suddenly on Britain's forehead, rubbing his eyebrows mercilessly. Arthur spluttered, writhing under Denmark and creating the most delicious friction, his mewls setting Denmark's skin on fire. Oh yes, he would comply this time… This was going to be awesome.

Denmark finally left Arthur's eyebrows alone, hands holding the Englishman's hips down. "Would you like to walk in the morning Iggy?" Said country snorted. "I better be fucking _bleeding _Denmark."

"Would you mind taking the gloves off then?" Denmark smirked. England smirked back, using his teeth to pull the gloves off of his hands, flinging each to the side in a well practiced motion. Mathias swallowed, almost uneasily. IT was just like seeing the Brit with a collar on, or tight pants, or even a skirt…

But now the smirk was back as Denmark stretched England out with two fingers, widening the puckered entrance and then pressing himself in, ignoring the moans, slight screeches and mewls from England. Arthur spread his legs wider, taking in his large lover. Their pants mingled for a moment before England said one word.

"Move."

Denmark was all too happy to, his movements slow to start with, but England's need clearly required a much faster pace; with which he soon complied. With each slap came a new angle, with each moan the tension in them both grew. England's bare hands were clasped on the sheets, knuckles white; the Dane's pale hands on his hips clenched with the rhythm.

Arthur let out a caterwaul worthy of a lion. And another as Mathias attacked that spot inside of him. And another, even as his back arched and he suddenly came up, fingers tangling in that crazy golden hair, pressing his face against Denmark's warm shoulder, and practically screaming -releasing all over their stomachs. Denmark came with one name on his lips- hearing his own screamed in such a manner was too much and he lay by the side of his lover, giving himself a moment to breathe and enclose the trembling country in an embrace. HE gingerly pulled himself out of England, ignoring the hitched moan in created, and got up, grabbing a towel and cleaning them both off. He blinked slightly, staring at his lover's lower half. Arthur was still trembling, and didn't notice the queer gaze…

Denmark sighed to himself as he finished cleaning them both off, snuggling under the covers with the tired country. It made him feel slightly bad that he had delivered on the short country's request- England had been bleeding…


End file.
